


Falling as We Grow

by engagemythrusters



Series: Did You Ever Dream [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: COE Fix-it, Domestic, F/M, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engagemythrusters/pseuds/engagemythrusters
Summary: Family, and what that even meant.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Did You Ever Dream [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116941
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57





	Falling as We Grow

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Daniela!

Her hands kept going to her stomach, awaiting the next kick that wouldn’t come. It was like her hands couldn’t quite grasp that idea the baby had come out days ago, like they couldn’t remember she could just reach over to the car seat beside her and touch the actual feet. She wondered if all mothers felt like this. Or maybe she was just screwed up. Wouldn’t surprise her if she was. Everything else seemed to point that way.

Gwen, very deliberately, moved her hand from her abdomen to the tiny being beside her. The child didn’t stir, sleeping through the touch.

God, the baby was adorable. She knew her opinion was absolutely biased, but… well, the nurses had cooed over the baby, so that had to mean something, right? And she knew how to spot a liar—none of them had been putting on a show for her benefit.

“You two alright back there?” Rhys asked.

Gwen looked up and found him turned in his seat to face her.

“We’re both fine,” she assured him. “Tired, but fine.”

“Almost home,” Jack said. His eyes watched her through the rear-view mirror.

Gwen looked outside. She supposed they were nearly there. She wouldn’t really know; she’d barely left the safehouse in the past eight months. Once, to go to the store when neither Jack nor Rhys were available to do so. And that’d been… before she was showing, at least. The other details escaped her.

Looking back at the seat beside her, she gingerly stroked a finger down the child’s face. _Her_ child’s face. This little girl was hers. The thought of this scared her and comforted her all in one go.

“Anwen,” she whispered to herself. “My little Anwen.”

The car eventually rolled to a gentle halt—and oh, how different that was from their Torchwood days—actually, why wasn’t Rhys driving?—oh no matter.

Thoughts whirled and swirled through her head. They were home now. God, what now? Nobody gave her a Baby Instruction Manual… granted, she’d never used an instruction manual before in her entire life, but still, she would have appreciated some direction.

“Go on in,” Rhys said. “I’ll take the baby.”

She wanted to protest; she wanted to take the baby inside, she wanted to carry her child home for the first time. But she was exhausted, and the baby was as much Rhys’s as hers. And Jack had already migrated to the back to take out Gwen’s bag.

So, after a final stroke to her daughter’s ever-so-soft cheek, she unbuckled and made her way into the house.

The early summer morning brushed warm wind through her hair. Would’ve been one of those rare nice days they had back at Torchwood, one of those days when Gwen wouldn’t have _minded_ chasing down three Weevils and a sentient camel-dog creature.

But Torchwood had gone now, and the longest Gwen could soak up this sunshine was her twenty-step walk into the house.

In comparison, the house felt quiet and peaceful—nothing at all like the vibrant June day out there. This felt more familiar to Gwen. Outside screamed excitement, whereas this sang of home.

“Hello,” Gwen called, loud enough to be heard, yet soft enough not to disturb.

“Hello!” a bright voice returned. “Welcome home!”

Gwen smiled to herself and made her way to the living room. There sat Martha, grinning brilliantly, holding a stethoscope to Ianto’s chest.

The tranquillity fled from Gwen instantly. “Something wrong?”

“Just dizzy,” Martha said.

Gwen caught Ianto’s gaze, needing reassurance.

“I’m fine,” he said. Gwen wouldn’t believe him, if not for the sincerity in his eyes. 

“So you are,” Martha affirmed, removing the stethoscope. “Do you still feel dizzy? Need to lie down?”

“No.”

Martha nodded and moved away, getting up from the sofa to hug Gwen.

“Congratulations, mum!” she said.

Gwen sighed, “Oh, bloody hell. I can hardly believe it. Three days and it’s still… well.”

“I can imagine.” Martha drew back, still smiling at her. “You look good!”

“Martha, I haven’t had a proper shower in three days,” Gwen said. “I look like shit.”

“We’re home!” called Jack from the front entry.

Ianto’s eyebrows raised. Had he the ability to do so, Gwen would’ve expected him to return with a witty quip. Shouting was a thing of the past for Ianto, though. The last time he’d raised his voice like that, he’d wound up with a coughing fit so long Gwen and Rhys had debated phoning a hospital. And that was not the way Gwen wanted to be welcomed home.

Rhys came into view, baby carrier held in his arms, and Jack followed, sporting a chipper smile and travel bags. Said bags dropped to the floor—for Rhys to pick up later, after Ianto complained about them enough, knowing how this place ran—and Jack swept Martha into a hug.

“How’s he been?” Jack muttered, low enough that only Gwen and Martha could hear.

“Fine,” Martha said. “Dizzy just a bit ago, and a couple times yesterday, but otherwise okay.”

Jack squeezed her just that tiny bit tighter, a silent “thank you” if Gwen ever saw one.

“Miss me?” Jack asked Ianto.

“Did not miss your snoring,” Ianto snarked, though his eyes had softened.

Jack bent over him and kissed his forehead, then sat down beside him. It escaped neither Gwen nor Ianto’s attention that Jack’s fingers instantly went to the oxygen tube off to the side, running it over and checking for kinks or leaks. Gwen thought that was somewhat pointless. Should his concentrator be functioning at anything less than normal, Ianto would be on the floor.

That unpleasant thought aside, Gwen returned her attention to the baby, now removed from the carrier and swaddled delicately in Rhys’s sturdy arms.

“Oh, is that her?” Martha asked. Her hands stretched out, eager to hold. Rhys, with great care, transferred the baby over, and she instantly gasped. “Oh! Hello, you!”

Gwen, exhausted, went to sit down beside Jack and Ianto as Martha cooed over the baby. Jack placed a hand on her leg, rubbing soothingly. Ianto just smiled across Jack at her. Returning the smile, Gwen thought about how much she’d missed him. Three days didn’t seem like long, but Gwen had rarely gone more than a day without seeing him since Jack had taken his “leave of absence” three years ago. Not to mention, he’d never been out of her sight for more than eight hours since he’d spent thirty-two seconds dead. It was a large relief to see him again right now, alive and well(ish).

“Anwen, then?” Martha asked. “Lovely name.”

“Anwen G. Williams,” Rhys said, proud.

“Cooper,” Gwen amended.

“I think it should be Harkness,” Jack said.

Gwen and Rhys’s looks were scathing, though Jack laughed them off.

“Cooper-Williams?” Ianto suggested, far more helpfully.

“Well, it says ‘Pallister’ on the birth certificate, no matter what,” Gwen said, after an abomination of a surname flittered through her head.

“That settles that, then, I suppose,” Rhys said.

(It absolutely did not, but they wouldn’t discover that until later.)

“I think she should meet her Uncle Ianto,” Martha said eventually.

Ianto paled. For a second, Gwen’s heart leapt to her throat, thinking dreadful thoughts of an imminent collapse on his part. Then she untensed, rolling her eyes as she watched Ianto squint slightly at the baby in Martha’s arms. As much as Jack adored children, Ianto feared them, and sometimes that had made Gwen laugh back when they had planned the soon-to-be child-filled future. Now, she wanted to laugh, but also tell him to grow up, because it wasn’t like the baby would _do_ anything.

Martha presented Anwen to him, and he immediately folded his arms into a cradled position, still looking terrified. He didn’t lose the expression, not even when the baby was placed in his hold and didn’t stir. In fact, he seemed to freeze, and only unfroze when Jack’s arms wrapped supportively around and under his own arms.

“I can hold her myself,” Ianto protested.

“No,” Gwen said, echoed perfectly by Martha and Jack.

Ianto scowled at the three of them. Gwen and Martha simply glowered back.

“You were dizzy five minutes ago,” Jack said, not having it. 

“I’m fine now,” Ianto said.

Gwen suspected the objections came from his frustrations at his lack of independence, rather than truly wishing to have the baby to himself. The fearful eyeing of the child again confirmed her suspicion.

“She won’t bite,” Gwen said.

“Not yet, anyway,” Ianto said. “Just wait until she gets teeth.”

“If your fingers are in her mouth, that’s your own fault.”

“You never know—she could be resourceful. There’s other ways she could bite me.”

“She’s a _baby_ , not a goose!”

Ianto did not appear at all convinced.

Martha struck up a conversation with Rhys about the birth, who was just as eager to tell the story as Martha was fascinated to hear it. Ianto listened in, enthralled in a seemingly horrified manner. Jack watched Ianto, though he reacted to the story as it evolved. Gwen simply observed everyone in turn. She wasn’t particularly interested in reliving the experience yet again; she’d both lived and told and heard the tale enough already.

Ianto, over time, began to lose his strength and hold on Anwen. It was barely noticeable at first, merely told through the slump of his shoulders, but then it quickened, and he began to look wan and his breathing grew more and more laboured. Jack withdrew the baby from Ianto’s arms, and Rhys took her away so that Jack could help Ianto sit back.

A collective breath held tensely in the room, all eyes on Ianto as he tried to regain his composure. Not but minutes later, he seemed to relax a bit, and that shared breath released. Rhys’s story resumed, haltingly at first, then growing steadier and more confident, finding its beat while Ianto began breathing as best as he could again. Jacks hands went back around Ianto and held the other man loosely.

A sudden thought came to Gwen.

She didn’t know what life would be like without those men.

It was easier to be confused about life _with_ a baby. That same uncharted territory had to be explored (what would the future be like?) but… adding onto something felt easier than the removal of another thing. Additions were made to families all the time, weren’t they?

Surely that’s what they were. Family. She lived with them, for god’s sake. She loved them. Shared more with Jack and Ianto than any other friend she’d ever had, cared for Rhys with every fibre of her being… Her best friends, and her husband.

So, yes, she could imagine adding onto this family of hers. Friends, husband, _and_ a daughter. But the removal of any one wasn’t anything she could imagine. She’d spent entire _months_ refusing to think of losing Ianto, no matter how close it had come at times. She wouldn’t think of it now; she didn’t dare. Gwen wanted her life exactly as it was now for as long as it could possibly be like this. Rhys by her side, Jack and Ianto with them, baby passed between them all, and Martha in and out to keep them grounded and in touch with the world.

And Martha mentioned something about a new boyfriend the last time she’d visited, but Gwen decided she’d like to _meet_ this Mickey fellow before she decided if he could join this scrounged-up little family of hers, too.

“—Gwen?” Rhys said, stirring her from her thoughts.

“Sorry,” she said. “Bit tired.”

“I’d bet,” Martha said. “Sounds like you had one hell of a labour.”

“Sad you missed out, Martha?” Gwen teased.

“Oh, pssh,” Martha scoffed. “No.”

Jack laughed, bold and bright, and beside him Ianto smirked tiredly, and that was all the answer Gwen needed.

“Well, I think you should get some rest, anyway,” Martha said. “God only knows how much you’ll get in the future.”

“Oh, god, don’t remind me,” she groaned. “Between the nightmares and the crying, it’ll be a blessing if I get any sleep.”

“Good thing you have thr—some strong men to work for you then.”

“Mmm…”

Nobody remarked on the oversight. Ianto himself didn’t even stir. It was odd, how used to things people could get. Even the sad things.

“Well,” Gwen sighed. “Might as well put them to work already. I’m off to bed.”

Kisses from Martha and Rhys were given, to the cheek from Martha and square on the lips from Rhys. Gwen softly stroked Anwen’s sleeping head, mindful of the soft bits, then pressed her own kiss onto the small forehead. Ianto and Jack received a small wave, which Jack returned. Ianto, who seemed to be in dire need of a nap himself, simply exchanged an exhausted look with her.

That meant family, she mused to herself as she shuffled down the hall to her bedroom. Family meant saying goodnight even for naps.

How many goodnights would Anwen get before she went down to bed? The notion amused her as she got into bed. Imagine being passed about from person to person to person to person before bed… Anwen would certainly never want for attention. Or love.

And that thought, the most comforting of them all, soothed her off to a nice, peaceful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Related to "Would Not Believe the Light Could Ever Go" and "Facing Light in the Flow" if you want the rest of the story. I still just. Need a title for the series. I promise to have one before I write the next fic...  
> Thank you so much for reading! Have a lovely day!


End file.
